just like everybody else
by Ash Light
Summary: "For once it'd be kinda nice to be in on the joke, to understand what everyone else is going on about." Anybodys doesn't understand why everyone else is so keen on kissing. Teeny-tiny Baby John/Anybodys


**Title: **just like everybody else

**Pairing:** Sort of Riff/Graz, Ice/Velma and teeny-weeny Baby-John/Anybodys

Notes: I missed West Side Story so much...after watching it I decided to start writing little bits and pieces again. It's worth it just to rewatch parts of the film and see supposedly tough gangs dancing and tapping their way down the streets...

Oh, and Bridget is an invention of mine own. She originated in Flare Up (under a different name), but I'd _really_ rather you didn't read that to get to grips with her, given that it was written over five years ago and definitely not the best piece of writing on here...Let's just say she's Action's cousin, a friend of Anybodys, and the gang don't completely detest her. 'Nuff said really.

-o-

She's staring. Anybodys _knows _she's staring, but jeeze, wouldn't you stare? Wouldn't you _gawp_? She's always been a pretty slick judge of character, she knows that, but _jeeze_. She always thought Didge was a smart girl. She _knew_ she was. And now the girl was perching on a rickety stool in the middle of Doc's, gibbering on about a kiss, a _kiss_ she'd shared with _Big Deal_, of all people, and for Chrissakes, _why would you do that_?

"You're…happy about that?" It's an effort to keep the sarcastic twist out of her voice, but hell, what does Becca expect. If she glances out of the corner of her eye, behind the jukebox, she can just about see Graziella, and Velma, and all the other girls, smoothly sipping their coffee and very obviously _not listening_. Anybodys snorts. Of course, no-one can be seen to be taking an interest in the _tragedy_ and her friend, but gossip is gossip.

Bridget squirms quite happily on her seat. "Uh-huh." She's so happy she can't even see Velma and Pauline exchange dry looks over the cream of their coffee, and for a moment Anybodys feels a stab of envy. She's so _aware_ of everything, every scornful look and cheap jibe that comes her way; what she wouldn't give to be _unaware_ for a change. "It was nice."

"Big deal." She hears an unwilling snort from the jukebox moments before she realises the pun, and shrugs. Well no-one would want to make those _girls_ laugh, but any appreciation is better than none. "Literally." Another chuckle from the corner.

Why is she so _happy_ about this? Why would any girl who could quite easily lick a boy in two minutes (_any_ girl could lick _any one_ of the Jets; fact of life) want the same hollow-headed numbskull slurping and…urgh, whatever else kissing involves all over you? Why would you _do_ that? Suppressing a shudder, Anybodys only just realises she's been grimacing for the past few seconds, and Didge's staring at her with a wounded look on her face.

"Aw, don't look at me like that."

The miserably, kicked-puppy look doesn't ebb away. "Ain't you happy for me, 'bodys?"

She shrugs slowly, picking her words with care. Hanging around punks like Action'll give anyone training in how to hit back, and she isn't exactly sucking around for a fight. "You could do better." _With anyone other than those cheap-beast-Jets_, she adds sourly.

Her friend's eyes roll straight up to heaven, and she makes a face at her. "It was _nice_," the girl repeats, taking a defiant swig from her soda. "Anyways, who've _you_ kissed that's so much better?"

Who's she kissed? Well that's just about the dumbest question she's ever heard – who would _wanna_ kiss anyone, anyone at all, when you could be smoking and swearing and fighting and doing whatever else you wanted to do? With all that, who would have _time_ for kissing? Especially one of those _guys_, buddy-boys who she could easily rumble alongside but neverever in a million years _kiss_. No way. Not in her lifetime buddy-boy, not while she can – still grimacing, pausing in her answer for too long, she glances sideways to catch several bright eyes peering at her from across the pinball machine. _Shit_. Hunching her shoulders, she slumps against the counter, running her finger along the rim of her bottle. "Maybe I haven't yet," she muttered sideaways through the corner of her mouth, and catches the giggles from the corner that say quite clearly _I told you so_.

Didge catches it too, and swirls around on the stool with a flash of irritation she's adopted straight from Action, and which certainly doesn't mask the glimmer of pity in her eyes. "Shaddup." She slurs her words sharply, copy-catting any number of Jets. "This is a private conversation."

From the centre of the group, self appointed queen bee, Graziella scoffs and flicks a hand disdainfully in her direction. She's not being truly cruel, and therefore they can't truly hate her, Anybodys reminds herself. Nevertheless, there's a small urge pounding away beneath her ribcage that oh-so desperately wants to pull out every thread of that red hair. From its brown roots, as Didge would snicker.

Velma, however, merely shakes her head and lights up a cigarette, in that breathless, effortless way she always has. Despite herself, Anybodys can't help but stare. They're all glamorous, in that light, easy way that makes them spin and flow when they dance, a way that she can only dream of, but Velma's something special. Something lucky too, to be going with Ice – who even Anybodys will admit is an ok guy because he doesn't insult her and holds open the door for Velma and stuff like that. "Relax, little lady," she breezes smoothly. "We were just listening in. 'Sides, Big Deal's not so bad – he don't talk so much, but that's 'cos he's a doer, rather than a sayer."

Half the girls chuckle knowingly at this, and Bridget squirms, a slightly nervous grin on her lips. At that moment, Anybodys could cheerfully hate her.

"I don't see what the big deal," she ignores the sally this time, "is. 'S just _kissing_ – it's too _wet_." Like having a dog slobber all over you, she thinks a little viciously. Why would you _want_ that?

Several pairs of eyes roll. Honestly, you'd think she was speaking a foreign language.

For a second Velma's lips purse, as if she's about to flick her off with a customary jibe, and then she shakes her head, slipping over to sit beside them, looping an experienced arm around Bridget's shoulders. Anybodys turns to take a ferocious swig from her soda. "It's fun – well, not as fun as bigger and better things, obviously." She can _feel_ the back of her neck go red, and how dumb is that? "But it's pretty fun. Somethin' to kill time."

"An' if you're with a guy who knows what he's doing it can be almost as fun as anythin' else they try and get away with later," Pauline murmurs through her own cigarette. "No point neckin' around with some kid."

They're all taking an interest, Anybodys realises sourly, like wrinkled old women clustering around Didge because she's one of them, going through all the same stuff they are. It bothers her more than she's willing to admit. It isn't _fair._ Anybodys doesn't have time for any of those dumb broads, she couldn't care less, but the fact that they're taking her friend under their collective wing just 'cause of some stupid kiss is _dumb. _They're _dumb_.

Minnie giggles. "You ever been with Action, Paulie? He's no kid."

"Well what about A-Rab – last week…" The rest of the sentence is brought down to a whisper, and then covered by an eruption of giggles. A mixture of horror and disgust flickers across Anybodys' face as she exchanges a scandalised glance with Didge. They cannot be listening to this; it's certainly not part of _her_ world. The guys are _guys_, she doesn't want to think about them kissing and necking and…well, whatever else is involves. She'll hurl first.

Rolling her eyes, Velma smirks, winking at Didge – Didge, who she never spared two glances for before. This kiss, this piece of _stupidity_, has changes everything. "Ignore them. If it's a good guy – y'know, a something special boy - well, it's something else then." She's talking to Didge, directed to a girl who is now a Jet's Girl and therefore One of Them, but Anybodys can _feel_ the words nudging at her. She just doesn't know if this is a jibe, a Look At What You're Missing, or something else, something clouded in sympathy and pity. She isn't even sure if she wants to know.

Thankfully (and this is the first time she's been thankful for Graziella speaking, believe it), the lead Jet girl laughs gleefully. "You're telling me, Vel." For a second the girl looks different as she puts her head to one side – softer, fonder- and Anybodys looks up with interest despite herself. "I remember when me'n Riff started going together…"

"Whoa, baby, my ears are burnin'!" They've all been so engrossed in the conversation that no-one heard the bell of the door ring – now Anybodys spins around on her stool to catch the entire gang spilling into the store like a flood; Riff at their head, larger than life and almost bouncing off the soles of his shoes. He grins cheekily at an elated Graziella. "Can't stop thinkin' about me for five seconds, huh Graz?"

Wincing at the squeal that Graziella let out, Anybodys abruptly shrinks back to allow the girl to slip snugly beneath Riff's arm, as if she belongs there. She sighs. Ever since Tony gave them the flick, started slipping off to God-knew-where, Riff's fitted into the role of leader as if he'd been made for it, and it shows – the way he shines like an oil slick on water. No wonder half the girls – Bernice, Minnie, even Didge – are giving him a glance that linger just a little too long.

Chrissakes, all this fuss over dumb guys and a few kisses? She scowls, hunching down on her stool further, unable to stop herself from glowering as a practically _glowing_ Didge slips over and allows Big Deal, a Jet who must be at least a foot taller than her, pull her into his lap. A week ago her best friend would probably have decked any guy who tried to do that to her, and now…She shakes her head in mute disgust at the way Big Deal's hands smooth over her midriff. It's not even if he's what Velma would call a _something special boy_. His face is too glazed, his expression too dumb. Jeeze, even A-Rab would be better for her pal than that…

"Urgh." Sticking two fingers down his throat and pretending to retch, the blond Jet snorts in the couple's direction, snickering wickedly. "Ya pallin' around with jailbait there, didn'tja notice Big Deal? She's just a kid!" As Didge pulls a face at him, he grinned, before jerking a thumb in the direction of the corner. "Shove it, Anybodys."

Alright, maybe not.

She might be just a kid, and A-Rab might be pulling his protective-big-brother act, but – well, Didge's _wanted_. Despite her disgusted demeanour, she can see that. Big Deal wants her, even if it's only to cop a feel, and from the way he's eyeing her up and down you can tell he thinks she's pretty. And that _makes_ her pretty; her face glowing and eyes sparkling. Despite everything, she finds herself feeling a lump of painful, glowing envy, deep down. Not for Big Deal, but for something, for something other than always being the one told to take a hike, to get out of the way. Just for the opportunity to see whether kissing makes you feel as good as it's supposed to.

Besides, it's not as if she'd ever get the chance is all. She can't stand to be around half of these dopes, and the ones who she can bare to linger around for five minutes…well, Tony's ditched them, and Riff's taken, A-Rab's a moron and Action…no. And besides, it's not as if she cares all that much.

She'd just like to know is all. It's not like she's _eager_ or anything.

-o-

It's a week later, and she's perched on a set of fire-escape steps, kicking her heels against the rusted metal and scowling. That kissing talk's started to get inside her head, and what's worse, she's starting to _listen_. It's dumb – a girl who prides herself on being stronger than the boys, smarter than the girls, different to anyone, everyone else – wanting to be just that. Just like everybody else. She feels dumb, she _is_ dumb, and she…can't stop dwelling on it.

Popping her lips with disgust, she heaves a sigh irritably. Jeeze, if she doesn't stop thinking like this now, she'll –

"Aw, it's you." Glancing up swiftly, she echoes the sentiment with one of her own as her eyes alight on Baby John – his own babyish face scrunched up in dismay as he clutches one of his precious _Superman_ comic books to his chest. "Why'd ya always hafta be just where no-one wants you, huh Mrs Haunted House?"

She glares at him pointedly, looping at him with a round-house that barely has any force behind it. Baby John really _is_ a baby, the skinniest little weed you could find along the whole west side – she could probably have knocked him down simply by blowing hard enough. What the hell the little stinker is even doing in the Jets is beyond her. Baby John…boy, that was a hell of a name for someone who was supposed to keep the punches raining when you were up against the wall.

"I'll get you later," she growls darkly, pushing her straggly red hair out of her eyes. "What're you doin' here anyway?" Eyeing the comic with a smirk, she raises her eyebrows pointedly. "Gotta hot date with Superman?"

When his cheeks flush red, she knows she'd hit the mark.

"Get lost, kid," he snaps back deliberately – _kid_, now that is a joke, when it was him talking. "I'm a full-fledged member of the Jets, remember?"

Yes she did, and it pisses her off every time she thinks about it. "So where's your precious buddy boys now?"

Baby John heaves a sigh, sitting down with a heavy thud next to her. She's too tired even to shove him away, too bored to bother with her usual favourite pastime of Baby-John-baiting. "They're all hanging out with their girls. And I'd be there too!" he adds quickly, his eyebrows raising in indignant self-defense. "but y'know – I ain't gonna be tied down to only one dame, even if she is a…a-a real down chick…"

It's the mixture of him aping Riff's language and the idea of even _one_ girl wanting to _tie him down_ that causes her to burst into peals of rough, grating laughter; until her sides are aching and Baby John's glowering furiously at her. "You ain't even got one girl," she snickers gleefully. "You ain't ever gonna _get_ a girl!"

He glares narrowly at her. "Look who's talkin'. You don't have anyone interested in ya, boy…" he takes a moment to eye her up and down pointedly, a move that is _definitely_ copied from A-Rab. The kid wouldn't even have the guts to come up with it by himself. "…or girl. You'd probably like that better."

"You creep!" Grabbing hold of his shirt, she shakes him until his head rocks backwards, clunking dangerously against the metal handrail of the fire-escape; but he's still snickering loudly. "I wish you _had_ gone with the rest of your _buddy-boys_ now."

"Gee, so do I." Wriggling and squirming until she lets go, Baby John glances at her nervously, one arm already poised to push her back. "Alright, _alright_ Anybodys – I'm sorry I laughed."

It's the first time any of the guys has apologised for anything directed at her – all the goosings and the cheap jibes and the '_Anybodys is anybody's_'. He's only done it to make her let go of him, and so she shrugs disdainfully, letting him go with a flick. Who wants to beat up babies and kids anyway?

"I hope your head's got concussion."

Baby John reaches up to trace a hand over the back of his skull. "Probably has done."

Anybodys snorts defiantly. Ha. Good. He deserved that one. Sniffing, she gives the comic book a once over and recognises it as one she's already flicked through. Jeeze, she's stuck with him. "Bet the rest of the gang are havin' more fun than this." And isn't that just depressing? Everyone else hanging out together, having fun and probably trying that _kissing_ stuff that has begun to play on her mind more and more recently, and she's stuck with the bawling baby boy.

"Anyone in Manhattan's havin' more fun than this," he grumbles. Nevertheless, despite his disdain he shifts about awkwardly on his home-made seat. "I'd'a rather not have been with the Jets though. I mean, girls are alright, but to look at some of them – they looked as if they were eatin' each other's faces!"

It's the first time she's ever agreed with anything Baby John's said, but oh boy, does she agree with him. "Sick, right?" she demands, and there's even a grin on her lips when he nods.

"You 'aven't seen it close up." Her brows rise up, and she leans closer, not caring that this is _Baby John_ and by all rights she could be kicking his ass right about now – this strange new world's been plaguing her for days yet, and to find someone who thinks it's wrong, sick, a violation of nature is a comfort all in itself. Means she doesn't have to think about it in any other way. She's not used to confiding in people, sharing whispered secrets, but this isn't all that bad. "We all snuck into the movies yesterday, and – well, I was put in between Riff 'n Graz, and A-Rab 'n Clarice." For a few moments he pauses, as if he's breaking some code of honour just by talking about it, and then shudders emphatically. It's enough to start her laughing all over again.

"I don't wanna think about it." All the same, for a few moments they're quiet as the grave, both picturing the scene, and then both of them squirm with utter disgust.

"At least you wasn't the one getting' squashed in between them."

Well, that's just even worse. Hiding a grin, she smirks back at him, unable quite to return to punching and clobbering him around the head. It isn't quite right. Sighing, Anybodys pillows her chin in her hand thoughtfully, thinking over it. How can it be that something everyone else seems to love so much is so…so _wrong _and _weird_ to her.

"They sure seem crazy about it though," Baby John volunteers the information that she's been pondering all along; and that seems to sum it up well enough. Crazy. That's the word for the whole lot of them.

She just doesn't _get_ the big deal, and it's that that drives her crazy. Once again she's the girl who doesn't get it, who's on the outside, who's _not_ like everybody else. For once it'd be kinda nice to be in on the joke, to understand what everyone else is going on about. It's the sort of thing she'd like to know about, just to be able to say _Hey, I did this too; never thought much of this kissing jazz myself but I know what you're talking about_. Her stomach boiling with impatience and envy, she taps her bitten down nails against the side of the fire escape, glancing over irritably at the _waste of space_ beside her – and before she quite knows what she's doing, she's leant over and knocked her mouth brusquely against his.

It only lasts a second, and by the time she's recoiled Anybodys has just about realised that _urgh_, his mouth has come into contact with _hers_, and that's the single most disgusting thing she's ever thought of in her life. And on top of all that, nothing else has happened. She's heard the other girls gossiping, she's paid attention to the chatter, she _knows_ that she's supposed to feel…you know, fireworks and sunshine and moonlight all light up in her belly at the same time. She doesn't feel any of that – just confused and embarrassed and a quiet little sense of thank-God-it-was-the-jailbiat-and-none-of-the-other-jerks. Nothing _romantic. _Wiping the back of her hand against her mouth with utter disgust, she catches sight of Baby John, gawping at her with an unreadable look on his face, his jaw hanging slack.

She wipes her hands down on her jeans, tosses her hair back. What the hell, it was worth a shot. If it's nothing special, it's nothing special – the whole rest of the world's just gone mad over kissing is all. It's not her fault she's the only one with brains. "Definitely no big deal," Anybodys muttered scornfully, and without a backward glance, slips down off the fire escape and down into the shadows of the nearest alleyway.

-o-

"Baby John? Hey, Baby John, whaddaya doin' out here?" Fixing his belt and shirt, A-Rab smoothed down his hair from what had been a very enjoyable make-out session with…with…well, it was one of Minnie's new friends, he knew that, something beginning with B…Betty? Bernice? What the hell. Anyway, he'd wandered off to find the kid – Baby John was like some doped up little mouse, keep your eyes off him for two seconds and God knew what kind of shit he'd be getting into – and found him five minutes later. Comic book lying forgotten by his side, eyes bugging out and jaw hanging open as he stared into thin air with the glazed look of the slightly shell-shocked on his face. "What's the matter with you?"

Baby John blinked, very slowly. "Huh?"

"I said; what's up with ya?" A-Rab picked up the comic, rolled it into a cylinder and promptly knocked it against the top of the boy's skull. "Someone do you over?"

Sluggishly, the kid shook his head. There was definitely shock there, mixed in with more than just a little bit of terror – but A-Rab could definitely see something else sparkling in Baby John's eyes, something that looked suspiciously like smugness. "A-Rab…" For a few seconds the boy opened and closed his mouth, as if experimenting with new words, before looking up with a definite flash of glee in his eyes. "I think I just got kissed!"

Groaning, A-Rab sank down on the stair beside his buddy. Oh boy – something told him this was going to take a while…

-o-


End file.
